The advance of the army is arranged, as some one described, not as a continuous movement but as a caterpillar-like form of progress, the first part of the move being a species of advance, the second a drawing up of the tail end of the creature. Thus the vast machine is carried from point to point, the halting-places being usually at positions of strategic consequence. The Boers had run away from their first positions at Brandfort and on the Vet; the second ones on the Zand, the Valsch, and the Rhenoster were now to be purged of the Republicans. It was necessary before going forward to make a three days’ halt, during which the tail end of the monster—the railway—was put in working order, and supplies collected and brought up. The enemy’s position on the Zand was reconnoitred, and on the 9th the advance was resumed, General Ian Hamilton hurrying to assist in the operations at the Zand River, the Highland Brigade being left in possession of Winburg.

TOWARDS THE ZAND RIVER TO KROONSTADT

By the 9th of May, as we know, General Pole-Carew’s and General Tucker’s Divisions and General Ian Hamilton’s Column (moving from Winburg), with Naval and Royal Garrison Artillery guns, and four brigades of cavalry, had concentrated at Welgelegen. The enemy, pushed back on all sides, now held the opposite bank of the Zand River in force; but nevertheless it was decided that the army would cross, and cross it did. The crossing was accomplished on the 10th, the enemy being routed from all his strong positions. According to the correspondent of the Times, the scheme for the general advance had been planned as follows: “A concentration of the line of advance was to take place at Kroonstadt. General Ian Hamilton, after leaving a brigade at Winburg, was to advance on the right flank with his Mounted Infantry, Broadwood’s Cavalry Brigade, and the 19th Brigade, via Ventersburg. The main advance with Lord Roberts was to be made by the Eleventh Division, supported by Gordon’s Cavalry Brigade, the connection between the railway and right flank being kept by General Tucker’s Division. The left was entrusted to General French with the 1st and 4th Cavalry Brigades and General Hutton’s Brigade of Mounted Infantry. As the left in all probability would find it necessary to act independently, the Mounted Infantry belonging to General Tucker became attached to the main column for screening purposes.”

The enemy, some 6000 strong with 15 guns, was found to be posted on a series of hills running diagonally against the east side of the Zand, but after some vigorous shelling by General Tucker they evacuated their main position by the river, blew up various culverts that lay in front of the British force, and prepared to make a vigorous stand against the Mounted Infantry advancing in the centre. These, having debouched on the plain on the north of the river were promptly assailed by guns from the hills to the right, but they still pushed on towards the west of the railway, while a battery of Horse Artillery tackled the region whence came the hostile shells. The scene of the fight was dotted with farmhouses and native kraals, and here numerous parties of skirmishers were knowingly concealed. The 8th Mounted Infantry Corps, dismounting, advanced in extended order across the nullah-riven plain under a heavy shell fire, while the British guns barked merrily and wrought devastation among the Boer guns, which were hastily scurried away, pursued now by the 4th Mounted Infantry, who, full of excitement, galloped off to capture the retiring treasures, and in so doing ran almost into the arms of some 500 Boers. These, rushing from ambush, forced them back on their supports. But the fire from a well-directed Maxim, and from Lumsden’s Horse, who had captured a hill and stuck to it amid a hurricane of Boer missiles, served to rout the Dutchmen and send them after their guns and convoy, which unfortunately, by this time, had been got safely away.

Of General Ian Hamilton’s part in the proceedings on the right an eye-witness contributed to the Morning Post an interesting account:—

“At daybreak on May 9 Ian Hamilton’s column left their bivouac at Klipfontein and marched north to Boemplatz Farm without resistance. About mid-day the Mounted Infantry, who were a mile or two ahead of the column, on topping the ridges overlooking Zand River, came under fire of the enemy concealed in the dongas near the river, and on the hills beyond, and in the kopjes on our right. They remained there all the afternoon, peppering and being peppered in return. The veldt here was alive with buck and hartebeest, and they were so tame that herds of them grazed between the Mounted Infantry screen and the main body. This was too much for some officers of the C.I.V., and they left their bivouac near the main body, about a mile in the rear, and let drive at the buck.

“Meanwhile the Hampshire Squadron of Mounted Infantry, which were playing hide and seek with their brother Boers, began to wonder how it was that bullets were coming from their rear as well as from their front. When they discovered that these bullets from the rear were intended for buck, they sent down a message, the language of which was hardly parliamentary, to the would-be buck slayers, and threatened to send a volley at the buck themselves. More Boer commandos were seen to be arriving from the east towards dusk, so there seemed to be every prospect of a warm time the next day, especially on the right flank. Up till now Ian Hamilton’s column had been working quite independently, and had marched north from Thabanchu as a flying column, but this afternoon we were acquainted with the presence of another force on our left by seeing Lord Roberts’s balloon in the air about eight miles away. That Lord Roberts met with but slight resistance may be accounted for by the fact that Ian Hamilton’s column away on his right was always a few miles ahead of him, and threatened the enemy’s flank. Lord Roberts’s force had been marching north along the line of railway, and now the two columns were converging with a view to reaching Kroonstadt together.

“Those on outpost duty that night heard the rumbling of waggons for many hours in the vicinity of the enemy. Evidently their transport was being moved out of harm’s way. The night was bitterly cold, and many of those on outpost duty had nothing but greatcoats to keep them warm, some of the waggons not having yet arrived. At daybreak our ‘Long Toms’ made excellent practice at what looked like a Boer laager on the slope of the hill across the river to the north. At about 7 P.M. the battle commenced in earnest, and the crack of our rifles, the double crack of the enemy’s, the barking of Maxims, the ‘pom-pom’ of the Vickers-Maxims, and the boom of the ‘Long Toms’ were heard all along the line. Our front must have been ten or fifteen miles along the Zand River, because Roberts’s column was now a few miles to our left, and French’s Cavalry Division was on Roberts’s left; but for reasons mentioned above the Boers showed a bold front to Ian Hamilton’s column only. The enemy kept up a steady fire from the positions they had occupied during the night, some Boers in the dongas having advanced to within a short distance of our firing line.

“As the day wore on, reinforcements appeared to arrive for the enemy, and they made a determined effort to turn our right. Here they were opposed by Kitchener’s Horse, who were hard pressed, and had to be hurriedly reinforced by the New Zealanders. On the extreme right the enemy now became very bold, and report says that the sergeant-major of Kitchener’s Horse made a bull’s-eye on a Boer’s head at only fifteen yards’ distance. All this time we had kept the enemy at bay without the aid of a single gun, though they had been firing at us with common shell and shrapnel, but to our great joy in the afternoon four field-guns came to our assistance, and proceeded to deluge the kopjes and dongas with shrapnel. Brother Boer now finding matters getting rather unpleasant slunk out of the dongas and off the kopjes in groups of ten and twenty in an easterly direction, and now the enemy having been pressed back all along the line, the 7th Mounted Infantry, Kitchener’s Horse, and the New Zealanders were left as a rear-guard, and the main body moved on five or six miles. At dark we followed them, and crossed the Zand River unmolested, and bivouacked on the other side of the drift on the position which had been all day occupied by the Boers. It was reported that the following day the bodies of fifty or sixty of the enemy were found in the Zand River dongas, and many more on the kopjes on the right, so the losses were not all on our side.”

The following casualties occurred in General Ian Hamilton’s column during the day’s fight: Second Lieutenant R. E. Paget, 1st Royal Sussex Regiment, wounded; Captain Leonard Head, East Lancashire Regiment, dangerously wounded (since dead).

Meanwhile General French, whose object was to turn the enemy’s right flank and capture Ventersburg station by nightfall, had also a brisk encounter with the Boers, which involved some loss of life, particularly among the Inniskillings. The 1st Brigade, under General Porter, advanced towards a kopje, which was captured by the Inniskillings. Here they were confronted by an advancing khaki-clad regiment, said to be the newly raised Afrikander Horse, which was mistaken for British troops. Before they could be recognised they had opened fire on the hills, and so violently assailed those holding it, that the Dragoons were forced to make for their horses, leaving behind them fourteen slain and many wounded. Guns and the dashing Canadians were sent in support of General Porter, while General French continued to develop his flanking movement. The 4th Brigade (8th Hussars and 7th Dragoons) were deployed on the right of the enemy, and grandly charged a body some 300 strong. They, however, suffered considerably in consequence, for while rallying, the squadrons were fiercely fired on by such of the Dutchmen who had succeeded in bolting to cover, dismounting and firing, before the assailants could get out of range. The object of the charge was nevertheless effected, and by nightfall, by a series of tactical evolutions—a species of military impromptu resulting from the exigencies of the situation—the enemy’s flank had been turned, and the Cavalry Division was safely disposed at Graspan. Unfortunately, the casualties during this movement were heavy, some 200 slain, wounded, and missing.

On the 11th, the army moved on some twelve miles to Geneva Siding. In front, the left wing (French’s Cavalry) flew ever well ahead, while the right centre (Tucker’s Division) marched slightly in the rear, and the right wing (Hamilton’s Column) worked its way onwards in the direction of Lindley. By dusk, General French had seized a drift over the Valshe River, below Kroonstadt, just in time to prevent the passage being opposed by the enemy. The manœuvre was cleverly managed, and in most inconvenient circumstances, for the transport having gone back to the Zand River, men and horses had been already a day without food. But rapidity was the word, and the deed kept pace with it. Both brigades were advanced as swiftly as possible, and divided each towards a convenient drift, scurrying to get there before the enemy could be informed of the direction taken. The result was, that when the foe, strong in men and guns, debouched from the scrub-country in the region of Kroonstadt, they were saluted with heartiness by the 4th Brigade, who had taken possession of the coveted vantage ground. The Boers retreated, and gathered themselves together to guard the road to the town; but General French made a rapid detour, which they saw might outflank them, whereupon they discreetly withdrew.

At night a gallant effort was made by that indefatigable officer, Major Hunter Weston, R.E., to cut the railway communications in rear of the enemy. Escorted by a squadron of cavalry, and accompanied by Burnham the American scout and eight smart sappers, he proceeded as usual, under cover of darkness, towards the line. Here, however, he came in touch with the Boers, and his troopers charged the Dutch patrol and captured them. Then leaving his escort, he, the scout and sappers, after much hiding in the moonlight and groping in nullahs, reached the line through the enemy’s convoy and launched the explosive into the midst of the Dutchmen, causing considerable panic among them. He, however, was defeated in his main object, though the hairbreadth escapes and deeds of cool-headed pluck accomplished during the small hours of the night make a long tale, both exciting and soul-stirring.

On Saturday the advance was resumed. The town of Boschrand, some eight miles below Kroonstadt, was found deserted, the Boers before the ubiquitous French having sped as an arrow from the bow. The Dutchmen had taken care to put a good deal of country between them and the British, for, after reconnaissance towards Kroonstadt had been made, it was found that though they had been seen the night before encamped from Kroonstadt to Honing Spruit they had melted away, and had evidently decided that they would make no further stand till the British arrived within the confines of the Transvaal. President Steyn had already taken himself off to Lindley, and Commandant Botha had departed with his Transvaal burghers to prepare for a big fight on the Vaal.

The entry of Lord Roberts into Kroonstadt was a fine spectacle, all the men, despite their hard, 128-mile march being in splendid condition, and wearing on their faces the air of honest satisfaction at work accomplished—pride in themselves and in their admired Chief. The procession was headed by Lord Roberts’s bodyguards, who were all of them Colonials. Following them came the staff and foreign attachés, then trooped in the North Somerset Company of the Imperial Yeomanry, a stalwart and bronzed host; after which marched General Pole-Carew’s Division, consisting of the Guards, the 18th Brigade, the Naval Brigade, the 83rd, 84th, and 85th Batteries, two 5-inch guns manned by Royal Artillerymen, and the 12th Company of Royal Engineers. The sight was a most imposing one, and the vision of troops apparently innumerable streaming through the streets highly impressed the Boers, who many of them had entered on the war with the highest confidence in their military prowess and the inferiority of the British as a fighting race.

CHAPTER V

MAFEKING

And his ambition was not entirely groundless, for things were coming to a sorry pass, and the tension grew daily more severe. It was necessary to be eternally pushing out trenches and capturing forts in order to secure grazing and breathing space, but this action had the result of so extending the lines, that the problem of how to protect ten miles of perimeter against some 2000 Boers, with only 700 men, became harder than ever to grapple with. Fortunately there was still an inner line, but even this was difficult to guard, now that the gallant seven hundred were reduced in stamina by long privation and immediate famine.

A great deal of irritation was caused by pilfering and house-breaking that went on. As the men were in the trenches and the women in the women’s laagers, all the ill-conditioned vagabonds, the human sauria that had trailed from the Rand and Bulawayo, at the hint of loot “made hay” while there was no police at liberty to cope with them. Every hand in Mafeking had been required, and the police had been forced to become soldiers, defenders of the state and not of private property. And well they had done their work! For over six months some 2000 to 3000 Boers had found fodder here for their eight guns, including a 9-pounder. They had been kept stationary, and thus prevented from combining with the Tuli column, or invading Rhodesia, or joining forces with any of the aggressive commandos in the south. And this wonderful arrest had been accomplished by men who at the beginning of hostilities were practically unarmed and unfortified. It was no marvel, therefore, that President Kruger and his advisers, who had started their fell work with such confidence, now began to wag their heads in acridity and dismay. The overweening bumptiousness of the several commandants who, full of buoyant and bellicose aspirations, had attempted the subjugation of Mafeking, had been their undoing. These had become the laughing-stock even of their own people.

Commandant Cronje early in the war had been so convinced of his ability to capture Mafeking that he had caused a proclamation to be printed annexing the district to the South African Republic. But he had found it a disastrous place, and had left it with some loss of prestige, as had many others who had attempted “to do the trick” and failed. Until this date the Boers had expended considerably over 100 tons of ammunition, lost over 1000 men killed and wounded, and had four guns disabled, yet nothing was accomplished.

Commandant Eloff was then specially deputed by Kruger to pulverise “B.P.”, and came to his work in high spirits accompanied by a man—a deserter—who, having served as a trooper in the Protectorate Regiment, was well acquainted with the plans of the fortifications and the military customs of the place. Of course, it was the object of the youthful commandant to make an attack as speedily as possible, for rumours of approaching relief threatened to put an end to his machinations and spoil his ambitious scheme. He knew that a relief column had reached and was advancing from Setlagoli, and that what had to be done must be done now or never. Still he had a notion that after passing Kraaipan any journey for troops would be arid, waterless, and discomforting, and believed that the column might be cut off before it could offer serious opposition to his plans.

Commandant Snyman, on his side, was as depressed as his colleague was jaunty. He was scarcely flattered to find a youngster determining to solve a problem which for a considerable time had defeated him, and therefore at the onset, in regard to the momentous plans for attack, the two commandants were scarcely at one. The rift widened as affairs developed. Indeed, in letters which subsequently passed between the pair, it was discovered that Eloff, to use his own words, “had been preparing to trip him up for years.” This Snyman must evidently have known, and determined to show—as he did when the opportunity offered—that “two could play at that game.” At this time, however, though the trail of the green and yellow monster might have been seen winding about the Boer laagers, there was no suspicion that when combined action against the common enemy—the British—would be needed the older commandant would fail the younger one.

Curiously enough, though at the instance of the Boers the Sunday truce had been agreed upon, they were the first to break through the compact. On the 6th of May, while the usual auction sales were taking place, and the ladies were cautiously doing their weekly shopping, an affair of some moment since prices ruled high, the rattle of musketry betrayed that something was wrong. It was then discovered that the Boers had fired on the horse guard, killing Trooper Franch, and wounding three horses, and causing a stampede of the herd towards their own lines. Fortunately the ever-wary B. P. kept a machine gun in the valley, and a sharp engagement took place, but nevertheless the Boers succeeded in capturing some of the all too precious cattle. The affair was soon over and the terrified ladies continued their shopping, but the incident was sufficient to demonstrate that soon, if the Boers should fail to succeed by fair means, they would have recourse to foul.

At last, on the 12th of May, came the great, the long-looked-for assault. It was not yet dawn, the stars were still blinking pallidly, when an ominous crackling awoke the town. It came from the east, where rosy tints of the sunrise were beginning to show themselves. At once every one was astir. The alarm bugle blared out, bells sounded, forms all sketchily attired, some still in pyjamas, rushed to their posts.

Though the bullets came from the east, whizzing and phutting into the market-square, Colonel Baden-Powell, with his natural astuteness, declared that the real attack would come not from there but from the west, the corner where stood the stadt of the Baralongs. All got their horses ready, armed themselves with whatever came to hand, and fled precipitately out into the nipping air of the morning. For an hour this brisk fusillade continued, then at about 5.30 there was a lull. The sun now was slowly beginning to rise, reddening the east with vivid blushes. But the colonel’s eyes were fixed on the west, and there sure enough was what at first seemed a reflection of the sunrise—a tremendous flaming mirage surmounted by dense volumes of smoke, and accompanied by a weird stentorian crackling commingled with yells discordant, and despairing lamentations from the direction of the native village. There was no doubt about it, the stadt was ablaze! whether by accident or design none at that moment could decide. Away went the guns, after them the Bechuanaland Rifles, rushing to the fray; and then on the morning breeze came a strange sound—cheers—but not British cheers—cheers that sent a thrill of horror through all who anxiously awaited the upshot of the encounter. It was scarcely to be credited, but it was the truth! The enemy had arrived! They were already in the fort that was held by Colonel Hore and his staff! They were not 500 yards off! At this time, though the bullets from the east fell less thickly, those from the west began to pour in, and through this cross fire the besieged rushed to their several destinations. Women, distracted, fled hither and thither; men shot and shouted and gave orders. Columns of smoke and cascades of sparks told the tale of conflagration, and natives scared, babbling, panic-stricken, tore through the streets.

There was just cause for alarm. The evil hour had come. The Boers had reached the orderly-room which stood outside the Kaffirs’ stadt. The clerk, finding himself surrounded, hurriedly telephoned to the Colonel, “The Boers are all in among us.” Such news it was almost impossible to credit, and the Colonel put his ear to the telephone. Then the sound of Dutch voices convinced him of the horrible truth. The next thing was a message saying that the Boers had taken Colonel Hore and his force prisoners, and that the British were powerless to help them. Telephonic communication was immediately destroyed with wire-pliers, but a state of consternation prevailed. It was perfectly true that Colonel Hore was powerless, as with his small force of twenty-three all told it was impossible to guard the many outbuildings that surrounded him against such overwhelming numbers, particularly as at first in the dusk it had been impossible to distinguish whether the advancing men were foes or friends.

All—young and old, men and even women—were madly rushing to the front, all eager to check the Boers in their wild rush forward. The prisoners in the jail were let loose and armed to join in the common duty, small boys seized weapons, shovels or pokers for want of anything better, and invited themselves to help to turn the invaders out. A singular cheeriness prevailed; the sniff of battle exhilarated, intoxicated them; they swore to protect Mafeking or die in the attempt!

Meanwhile the dashing Eloff, who so long had boasted that he would bring Mafeking to her knees, had at last achieved something of a success. The fort was seized. He and his band of 700 men had advanced up the Molopo, burnt the stadt as a signal to his allies, and thus made an entry. The storming party was composed mostly of foreigners, and numbered some 300 all told. Many of them were Frenchmen, who, when they emerged from Hidden Hollow and rushed on Colonel Hore’s fort, were heard to be shouting “Fashoda! Fashoda!” while such Boers as could speak English were sent in front to roar “Hip, hip, hurrah! Relieved at last!” so as to deceive the besieged with the idea that the relief column was arriving. Behind were 500 burghers, with Snyman, in support; but when they heard the firing they discreetly waited to see the result, and through their discretion Eloff eventually lost what he had gained. The Baralongs, whose stadt was burning, and who themselves were burning for revenge, had permitted some 300 of the party to seize the outlying forts, and then, with an astuteness peculiar to them, decided they would get between the Dutchmen and their supports, and “kraal them up like cattle.” But this was not done in a moment.

To return. When the storming party had reached the fort, they broke up into three. One hundred and fifty of them attacked the fort and seized it, together with the Colonel and twenty-three men of the Protectorate Regiment, who, mistaking them in the dusk of the early dawn for friends, had not fired. When they found out their mistake, it was too late.

Regarding Colonel Hore’s lamentable position and his surrender, the correspondent of the Times, who had the ill luck as a man and the good luck as a journalist to get taken prisoner, said: “Commandant Eloff demanded the unconditional surrender of the twenty-three men who were established at the fort, an order which, had Colonel Hore refused, implied that every man with him would be shot. The exigencies of the situation had thus suddenly thrown upon the shoulders of this very gallant officer an almost overwhelming responsibility. It was impossible to withdraw to the town. Such a movement would have meant retirement over 700 yards of open, level ground without a particle of cover, and with a force of 300 of the enemy immediately in the rear. For a moment Colonel Hore had considered, but realising that escape was impossible, that indeed the Boers were all round him, he ordered the surrender, accepting the responsibility of such an act in the hope of saving the lives of the men who were with him. But the situation imperatively demanded this action in consequence of events over which he had no control. It was, perhaps, a moment as pathetic and great as any in his career, which, honourable and distinguished as it has been, has brought to him some six medals. The surrender was effected at 5.25 A.M., and the news of such a catastrophe did not tend to relieve the gravity of the situation. With the Boers in the fort and in occupation of the stadt, it was necessary so to arrange our operations that any junction between the stadt and the fort would be impossible. At the same time we were compelled to prevent those Boers who were in the stadt from cutting their way through to the main body of the enemy. The situation was indeed complex, and throughout the remainder of the day the skirmishing in the stadt and the repulse of the feints of the enemy’s main body, delivered in different directions against the outposts, were altogether apart from the siege which we were conducting within our own investment. From the town very heavy rifle fire was directed upon the fort, which the Boers in that quarter returned with spirit and determination. But the position in the stadt had become acute, since behind our outposts and our inner chain of forts, which are situated upon its exterior border, were a rollicking, roving band of 400 Boers, who for the time being were indulging in pillage and destruction wherever it was possible.”

For those inside the fort the tension was extreme. Colonel Hore, with Captain Singleton, Veterinary Lieutenant Dunlop Smith, fifteen non-commissioned officers and men of the Protectorate Regiment, Captain Williams and three men of the South Africa Police, and some native servants, were packed in by a crowd of the enemy, while a babel of tongues—German, French, Italian, Dutch—made a clamour that obfuscated the senses. Many of the Boers were busy looting, breaking open anything that came to hand in the officers’ quarters, notwithstanding the remonstrances of their allies, the foreigners. Trooper Hayes, a deserter from the Protectorate Regiment, who was well acquainted with the fortifications, and had led Eloff into the town, swaggered about in the presence of the prisoners adorned with Colonel Hore’s sword, and his watch and chain. His desire to get rid of as many of the British as possible was shown by his suggestion that they should stand on the verandah as a mark for their own men. Through the long hours the prisoners were cabined and confined in a very limited space, listening to the progress of the battle which still raged outside, and hearing the hail of bullets, hostile and friendly, that spluttered and splintered around the fort. It was a dreadful day of suspense and agony. Food was handed in, but water, owing to the tanks having been perforated by bullets, was scarce, and the sufferings of the wounded, both Britons and Boers, were horrible. Bravely Mr. Dunlop Smith and his assistants responded to the call of Eloff to assist the wounded Boers, and nobly they risked their lives over and over again, running the gantlet of the British fire in the service of their fellow-creatures.

Meanwhile Baden-Powell’s braves had surrounded the fort, and managed to make a vigorous stand against further encroachment of the enemy, while skirmishing of a more or less desperate kind was taking place in the direction of the stadt, round the kraal, and a kopje in its vicinity.

The capture of the kraal and surroundings by Major Godley, Captain Marsh, and Captain Fitzclarence was ingeniously accomplished. They had not taken lessons in Boer warfare for six months for nothing, consequently, instead of making themselves targets for the foe, they crept towards the walls, bored loopholes with their bayonets, and poured their fire on the invaders. These fought pluckily, but presently came the artillery, and directly the order was given to commence fire the enemy thought it high time to surrender. Then came the question of the fort, where Colonel Hore was still the prisoner of Eloff. Brisk and accurate firing took place, and so hot was the attack that many of the British were wounded by their own people. The victorious Eloff and his party, cut off from his supports and devoid of the assistance reckoned on from Snyman, now found his position as conqueror highly unenviable. Night was coming on, and many of his party struggled to slink out and desert him, but he fired on them and left their dead bodies to add to the confusion. Finally, as there was no help from without, Eloff—surrounded by Colonel Baden-Powell’s troops—did the only thing that could be done in the circumstances—he surrendered to his own prisoner, Colonel Hore. Thereupon, he, and others of his gang, numbering 110, including Baron de Bremont, Captain von Weissmann, and several field-cornets, were deprived of their arms and marched into the town, to be accommodated in the Masonic Hall and in the jail. Their appearance was greeted with courteous silence and a certain admiration for the daring of the attack, but the exuberance of the Kaffirs was uncheckable, and they hooted lustily. They had suffered much at the hands of their tormentors, and in this, their hour of triumph, they would not be denied. Of the Boers, 110 were prisoners, 10 were killed, and 19 wounded. It was supposed that other corpses may have been dragged away and disposed of by the natives, who thus got possession of rifles, which weapons had been refused them by the British.

The British casualties were:—

Killed.—Lieutenant Phillips, Trooper Maltuschek, Trooper Duberley. Wounded.—Captain Singleton, Lieutenant G. Bridges, Sergeant Hoskings, Regimental Sergeant-Major S. Malley—all of the Protectorate Regiment; Hazelrigg, Cape Police; Smidt, Town Guard.

Sergeant-Major Heale, in charge of the Dutch prisoners, an esteemed member of the garrison, was killed by a shell. Of Trooper Maltuschek, a few words written by Major Baillie deserve to be quoted, as showing the manner of man and Briton he was. It appears that the gallant fellow absolutely declined to surrender, and fought till he was killed. “It wasn’t a case of dashing in and dashing out and having your fun and a fight; it was a case of resolution to die sooner than throw down your arms; the wisdom may be questionable, the heroism undoubted. He wasn’t taking any surrender. As far as I am concerned, I have seen the British assert their superiority over foreigners before now, but this man, in my opinion, though I did not see him die, was the bravest man who fought on either side that day. It is a good thing to be an Englishman. These foreigners start too quick and finish quicker. They are good men, but we are better, and have proved so for several hundred years. I had always wanted to see the Englishman fight in a tight hole, and I know what he is worth now. He can outstay the other chap.” In these last words is the whole summing up of the story of battle. In Mafeking, particularly on this terrific day, the British men—and women—had “outstayed the other chap.”

The reason that the loss after so many hours’ fighting was comparatively insignificant, was owing to the fact that the garrison was so splendidly handled, and that every soul, ladies included, took a plucky share in the work. Lady Sarah Wilson, Mrs. Buchan, Miss Crawford, and Miss Hill, the matron of the hospital, all distinguished themselves by their plucky actions; and Mrs. Winter and Mrs. Bradley were indefatigable in ministering to the wants of the men. Even the most peaceful beings became bellicose in the common cause, and Reuter’s correspondent gave an amusing account of how Mr. Whales, the editor of the Mafeking Mail, who was exceedingly plucky but quite unacquainted with military matters, comported himself in the dire emergency. When the railway workshops were manned Mr. Whales got a gun to help; but every time he discharged it, it hit him on the nose, with the result that when all was over, he returned to the bosom of his family covered with his own blood!

Of course this was merely a passing jocosity, for the same chronicler declared that “the most interesting phase of the fight was the manner in which every one in the town showed himself ready to take his share in its defence. The seven months’ siege had left very few cowards. All sorts of men who have staff billets and do not generally man the forts seized rifles and hurried to the railway line, the jail, and the workshops, resolved to die in the last ditch, which was the railway line, within three hundred yards of the market-square, the enemy being only five hundred yards below the line.” He further said, “It is customary in London rather to look down on town guards, Volunteers, and citizen soldiers, but it was by these that the town was held and Commandant Eloff was beaten.”

Strange tales were told in that eventful day of the kind treatment meted out to the Boers. They were given clean towels and soap (the latter was at first mistaken for an eatable), and tended like brothers, while all the past aggravations endured at their hands were forgotten or at least ignored. The prisoners, wounded or sound, were greeted almost affectionately by the town. Such drink as there was was shared, and for the time being, amid the general jubilation, at the close of the melodramatic episodes of the day it was difficult to decide which were the happier, friend or foe. Thus generously wrote Mr. Angus Hamilton of the enemy: “We who had been prisoners and were now free rejoiced in the liberty which was restored to us, yet it was difficult to restrain oneself from feeling compassionately upon the great misfortunes which had attended the extraordinary dash and gallantry of the men who were now our prisoners. They had done their best. They had proved to us that they were indeed capable, and that we should have kept a sharper look-out, while it was indeed deplorable to think that it was the treachery of their own general in abandoning them to their fate, that had been mainly instrumental in procuring them their present predicament.”

Sergeant Stuart’s account of his experiences was curious. On the morning that Eloff entered, he heard shooting at the east end of the town, and sprang out of bed, “shoved” on a coat, and seized his rifle. When he got out he saw flames at the west end, and ran across the open towards the fort. When he came nearer he saw 400 Boers looking over a wall. They cried out, ‘Up hands! surrender.’ He was within forty yards, so he turned and bolted. They fired but did not touch him, and he reached the fort. He surrendered soon after, with Colonel Hore and twenty-four others. They were put into a little hut, and kept there all day, firing going on all round. At 6 P.M. Eloff came into the room—about six feet square—and leant against the door, and said, ‘Where is Colonel Hore?’ ‘There he is.’ ‘I surrender,’ said Eloff, ‘if you will spare our lives and stop the firing.’ The prisoners then sprang up and took their rifles from them, making them their prisoners.’ Another authority declared that when Eloff was taken before Colonel Baden-Powell, that officer with his customary ease received him affably, and merely said, “Come and have dinner; I am just about to have mine!” Certain it is that Commandant Eloff, Captain von Weissmann, and Captain Bremont were entertained at headquarters.

WITH COLONEL MAHON’S FORCE

There were whispers in Bloemfontein, there were whispers in Kimberley, there were whispers in Natal. Secretly a scheme, originated by Sir Archibald Hunter (commanding Tenth Division), for the relief of Mafeking was being organised, and the action was to be started so that the movements of the flying column formed for the purpose should synchronise with Lord Roberts’s great advance on Pretoria. The Imperial Light Horse (Colonel Edwards) whose laurels had grown green in the harsh nursery of Ladysmith, were brought over from Natal; the Diamond Fields Horse, and the Kimberley Light Horse (Colonel King), who had developed into veterans to the tune of the Kamferdam big gun, were marked down for the dashing enterprise. Some picked men—twenty-five from each of the four battalions of Barton’s Fusilier Brigade, under Captain Carr (7th Royals)—were also included among the “braves” who were to form part of Mahon’s flying column, and M Battery R.H.A., under Major Jackson.

The object of the flying column was to fly, but at the same time it behoved the expedition to be discreet in its rush, for any advance that could not provide convoy, stores, and medical comfort for the relief would have ended in a showy demonstration which would have been more embarrassing to the besieged than satisfactory. It was necessary to go well laden, and thus keep together the body and soul of Mafeking, and the party of rescuers were immovable till General Hunter, slower and surer in his progress, should have advanced along the railway and repaired the line. It was also imperative to avoid, if possible, any collision with the enemy till Mafeking should be neared, and there was a chance of co-operation by Colonel Plumer’s and Colonel Baden-Powell’s men.